Fairytale Almost Real

I awoke Wednesday morning from a delightful dream. As many are aware, I am quite the fan of ABC's "Once Upon A Time."

That being said, I dreamt that I was frolicking through the Enchanted Forest donning an identical dress to Regina's in the current season 5: scarlet with gold trim. I hadn't a care in the world. Kicking up the hem of my adornment borrowed straight from Camelot, I laughed and shrieked as I leaped over rocks, fallen trees, through low-hanging branches, hugging bark tightly in my fingertips when I'd abruptly decide to change directions. I never ran out of breath, but my heart pounded rapidly in pure jubilation.

I haven't had a good dream in upwards of two years. It's been all nightmares, or nothing at all. I'd certainly call this an answer to prayer and hope for a new direction.

Summer Update

I haven't blogged since May, probably because I don't feel that I've had much to write about. The summer's going by fast, yet I don't really know what I've been doing.

Aaron and I celebrated our First Years Anniversary on May 18th by going to Chicago for that weekend. We visited my family, explored the city, and went to Medieval Times Tournament and Show. While at Medieval Times, we ran into our dear friends whom we hadn't seen in a year Kim&Caleb who were celebrating their 2nd year anniversary. I do believe that was the highlight of our trip.

My mother got married in June. This was especially surprising given her less-than-savory prior marriage. I had convinced myself she'd never marry again, or if she did, I'd hate him. The latter is amazingly true: I adore the dude and am content with my mom being married again. The wedding was short, sweet, to the point; simple, yet elegant. She was stunning. While she and Keith (he has a name!) were on their honeymoon, we dog-sat for them, resulting in a hardly-existent garden in the back yard. Ho-hum. Maybe next year.

Work is still going well for both Aaron and I. He's in the middle of his busy season, cutting down and pruning trees for Ryan Lawn & Tree. I'm in the middle of my slow season and have switched to the morning prep shift at Papa Murphy's.

Our adorable doofus of a dog is blissful as can be, exploring the neighbors yard when no one's watching, chasing flies around the house, barking at cats on walks, doing yoga in his sleep,


and shedding everywhere! Yes, tis the summer shedding time, and I'm already so over it.

That's pretty much it for now I believe.

Think Outside The Box

Well, this is it. I'm taking another leap into another great adventure: an adventure into the unknown, with nothing in sight, but endless possibilities. What adventure is she going on this time? you ask. This adventure, dear friends, is called "College Drop-Out." Yes, that's right, folks, I am dropping out of college-perhaps not permanently, but maybe permanently. We'll see.

I'm sure this announcement is creating a multitude of responses in everyone's mind. Mixed ones like,
"You're throwing your future away."
"Good for you."
"But you have such potential."
"It's good to take a break."
"You'll never get a good job."
...Etc....

Well, before meriting responses of any sort, I think I owe an explanation for such an announcement. The reasons why I am dropping out are:
1) I won't receive financial aid anyway, just loans, because of income increase (petty reason I guess)
2) Mentally, I struggle under the pressure extreme class disruption partnered with the lack of teacher intersession.
3) I'm sick and tired of credits not transferring after being promised otherwise, and being passed around like I'm a show-and-tell.
4) Emotionally, I am not currently able to handle the stresses of the academic world due to trying to deal with conquering those problems.
5) I felt such an overwhelming peace when I dropped my classes this morning

To ease some of the worry I know some have, I already have a job that I love, so I'm not worried about employment issues. I plan on exploring my talents through workshops, apprenticeships, classes unrelated to a traditional school, I.e. the art museum. All the while, I'll be perfectly content not fitting the mold.
"Think outside the box!" my mother has always told me. And that's what I'm planning to do.

Home Sweet Home

I'm obviously not doing well with my New Year's resolution to blog more often (weekly...ahem), but that aside, we've had some delightful changes as of late:
As most know by now, we've moved out of the apartment and into a house, and what a delightful little 60's cottage it is. We unpacked rather quickly and it looks as though we've been there longer than we have, which I think is a good thing. The main thing we're missing I think is pictures on the wall, but that's a quick and easy project. We've already begun quite a bit of yard work to make room for a garden and flower bed.

We've also welcomed a new addition to the family: Bengal, our two-year-old Great Dane-Retriever mix who's already bringing lots of laughs and smiles to everyone he meets. Already well-behaved, our goal is to train him to be an emotional-support dog.

Aaron continues to work at Ryan Lawn and Tree and loves it. I'm working at Papa Murphey's and, yes, still enjoying it. Overall we're doing rather well and, as always, having fun with every adventure life presents.

My Deepest Darkest Secret

*WARNING: Content in the following blog post maybe be heavy and uneasy to read for some*

            Why is it that people feel the need to share secrets? Why is it that they feel the needs to keep secrets in the first place? Maybe people keep secrets because they are ashamed, they are embarrassed, or for fear of being judged. Personally, I think the reason is often a combination of all three.

            I have a secret that I have been keeping for the past year and six months. In fact, it’s my deepest darkest secret. While I’ve attempted to tell some, the awkwardness it’s posed on those individuals had me feel the reason to shut it away altogether. But now, after starting to come to terms with it myself, I feel even more awkward holding it in. So here it is:

On Monday, August 5, 2013, I was interning at the Little Beaver Youth Camp in Wasilla, Alaska. This particular day began as nothing extraordinary. I ran my usual routine serving in the kitchen, cleaning up camp, and preparing for later meals for campers. Between meals, I had a habit for going on short hikes by myself.

On August 5^th, I went out on my usual hike and decided to follow the road that would ultimately lead me to Maranatha Camp had I walked far enough. As I walked and enjoyed the summer afternoon, a small pickup truck suddenly sped by on the wrong side of the road, sideswiping me and knocking me to the ground. As I staggered to my feet-my hands and knees freshly scraped, my shoulder throbbing and sore- the truck skidded to a stop and a man jumped out and ran to me. He promptly apologized, inquiring of my injuries, but I said I was okay and began to limp back towards camp. The man offered me a ride home since I was hurt, but I politely refused and kept walking. Long story short, he grabbed me and began trying to force me into his truck. It only took me a split second to realize that I was being kidnapped when I remembered that this method of abduction was actually fairly common in the Anchorage and surrounding areas. I screamed and fought and struggled to get away. It wasn’t until I pulled my knife on the man and held it to his throat that he released me, sped off, and was never seen again.

This incident has haunted me ever since. While at first, I morbidly joked about it to myself and tried to mention it to a few, I found my ultimate reaction to the trauma delayed. I never reported the man because by the time I opened up about it, a few days had already passed, and besides, everything happened so quickly that there’s no way I could describe the man in detail to anyone.

I returned to Missouri at the end of the summer falsely believing that I was also leaving the incident behind, never again having to face it. I was sorely mistaken. Shortly after my return, I found it harder than ever to sleep at night. I was restless and began dreaming uncomfortable things, but not quite nightmarish. I thought at first that this was attributed by recently acquired health issues. I took the matter to a counselor. After describing the situation to her, and later another counselor, I received the same answer from both: “Well, you seem fine now.” This answer became simply another reason to keep the secret withdrawn. Later on, I approached another counselor. Her response wasn’t as dismissive, but still unhelpful, “Yeah, I can see why you can’t sleep.” No suggested solutions entailed. That was it so I left even more discouraged than before.

As time continued, my uncomfortable dreams became nightmare, which became night terrors, which became day terrors (same as daydreaming, only horrifying.) Though I can honestly truly say that I have a wonderful life, I can also say that once the trauma began to affect my waking hours, life became border-line hell. I began having dreams about and flashbacks of childhood abuse, my occupation at the time with a behavioral health facility where I was required to physically escort and restrain aggressive clients became traumatizing for myself, and even some movies that would otherwise seem harmless became disturbing (most recently Alice in Wonderland)

Psychophysiological Insomnia is not for crazy people, nor is PTSD only for soldiers who’ve fought I battle (do NOT mistake my statement for insensitivity towards their own cases.)  Though I am currently receiving assistance from a new counselor and persistently seek God for His help, this doesn’t mean that the problem is immediately solved. On a day to day basis, I have to remind myself that the world isn’t out to get me in order to counteract certain paranoias. Constantly in a state of hypervigilance,

·         I hate going to the bathroom with the door closed

·         I hate hallways lit or unlit.

·         I always have easy access to a weapon which I always have on my person: knife, kubaton, mace, keys, and rape whistle.

·         I either jump at sudden loud noises, or uncharacteristically fail to react at all.

·         I desire friendship, but now find the thought of making friends unappealing (it’s nothing personal.)

·         I sleep with a nightlight.

·         I find bedtime terrifying, causing myself to take an hour+ to fall asleep.

·         I have vivid, chronic night terrors. Sometimes they wake me, sometimes they don’t (sometimes resulting in sleep paralysis)

·         I have mental breakdowns which caused my muscles to seize and cramp, making the meltdowns 10x worse.

·         I desire alone time to chill out, but often panic when I’m alone.

·         It’s more difficult to handle large crowds for extended time periods including school, church, family gatherings, parties, Walmart, etc…

I supposed I have chosen to publically reveal my secret because I am getting it off my chest in order that I may be held accountable for my journey in healing and am asking for support. By support, I don’t mean that you have to hold my hand 24/7 or even understand my situation. I honestly just want to know that you’re there. Also understand that “being there” doesn’t require you to physically be with me all the time. I know everyone has their own lives to tend to. I just want to know I have your support as I try to get used to a new lifestyle change.

How to help:

Please DO:                                                      Please DON’T

1.      Be respectful.                                                   1. Pity me

2.      Acknowledge the depth of the struggle.                       2. Fear or avoid me

3.      Encourage                                                       3. Judge me

4.      Try to imagine yourself in the predicament.     4. Assume you understand

5.      Accept that you’ll never fully understand                    5. Say things like:

6.      Offer to explore resources together.                            “Aren’t you over it yet?”

7.      PRAY for me                                                                “You are crazy./”You’re just paranoid”

8.      Listen to me                                                                 “It’s all in your head.”

9.      Love me                                                                       “Just be stronger.”

10.  Realize that every day for me is a victory                    “At least he didn’t hurt/rape/kill you.”

 “I had that but I got over it.”

“Chill out!”

“Pull yourself together.”

“It’s in the past now.”

“Forgive and forget.”

 “Move on.”

           

For more information on ptsd, visit HeartsMovingMountains.com

Potty Mouth

Ever met a person who swears all the time and when you think about it, the context in which they used the swear word(s) makes absolutely no sense?

Why are swear words even necessary? Often they’re referred to as “adult words,” but why exist at all? In my humble, or maybe not-so-humble opinion, swear words are immature, unprofessional, inappropriate, and frankly unoriginal uses of English vocabulary. I honestly don’t care the mood someone is in, or the presiding situation at hand. Swear words just sound... dumb.

            Why do people find it so cute or hilarious when a child swears accidentally? I admit I’ve laughed on occasion in similar situations (these incidents are often shown on “America’s Funniest Home Videos”) but really it’s an awful slip of the tongue that should immediately be corrected. If it’s being caught on film, you know it’s been going on awhile which teaches the child that swearing is okay. We laugh, so they laugh. The parent pulls out the camera and prompts a repeat, and the child thinks it’s acceptable. Yuck.

            Depending upon my audience, some may recall my “Potty Mouth Jar” I had in high school. Anytime I caught a friend swearing, I charged them a quarter. Surprisingly well, this carried on for a while, to my benefit of course, and even though it tapered off, but my friends knew to watch their mouths (around me at least.)

I’m not necessarily offended when people swear. Honestly, I have a hard time taking people seriously when they swear. If they do it “jokingly,” I tend to think them altogether immature. If done out of anger, I view it as lack of control over anger. Label it judgmental if you like, but let be honest: if you walk up to someone at random and start swearing at them, chances are it won’t be received with smiles and hugs.

            Why swear at all? I won’t pretend that I’ve never done it. Yes, a swear word have slipped from my mouth before, but it left me feeling filthy and depressed the rest of the day, not out of guilt, but just because swear words are in general not uplifting or encouraging. They’re depressing, discouraging, and derogatory.

That’s pretty much all I have to say about that.

Randomest Reese's

I love Reese’s peanut butter cups. A rare indulgence since they contain a lot of yuck my body can hardly handle, I still after all my years of living retain a very specific method of consuming said glorious treats:

1.     Unwrap goody

2.     Annoyedly peal off paper cup

3.     Crumble paper cup

4.     Wrap crumple into foil wrapping so that no paper shows

5.     Nibble poky edges off peanut butter cup

6.     Bite top of peanut butter cup off and eat quickly

7.     Place bottom half of peanut butter cup (the part loaded with peanut butter) carefully in pie hole and savor like it’s the last thing I’ll ever eat again.

I have no idea why I eat peanut butter cups like this. It’s such a routine for me that I get slightly upset when a peanut butter cup doesn’t split right when I go to bite the top off. I remember this even being an annoyance when I was in the fourth grade. In my mind, the failure to split evenly is a real dilemma, though I’ve never externally expressed it in any way until now.  

Do you eat things weirdly, or am I the only one?

Colorful, Dreary World

 What a world we live in. Some days, it seems so bright and happy, while others it seems dismal and gray. Yesterday, I woke up to clouds hanging over the Ozarks with temperatures flirting with freezing. It was the first day of school: Spring semester 2015 at OTC. I didn't fight too badly to get out of bed only because my wonderful husband bought us a pretty little stain-glass light bulb (Yay for clearance sales!) and I was all too eager to turn it on. It brought me such happiness despite my grogginess that I decided to match it brilliance in my attire......

 

 

 

Walking to school

Upon arrival to campus, my get-up immediately turned heads downward, simultaneously painting smirks on the faces of everyone I passed. In turn, I too couldn't help but smile. Some people would grin and turn to their neighbor to whisper. An occasional few would compliment my little rainbow. No, I didn't dress this way to attract attention (good gracious, that's the last thing on my mind.) and no I didn't do it to make a statement. I did it simply to add a splash of color in a gray world and to even slightly saturate a (in my opinion) dull campus.

Chillin' in the chiroporactor's office

Not only did I go to school yesterday, but I visited the chiropractor as well. There too I received the same reactions as earlier in the day with the added puzzlement from the Amish visitors. Oops.

Needless to say that despite my lack of sleep combined with academic anxiety, I had a fun day.

Dumpster Diving Diva

The holidays are over: decorations are coming down, Christmas carols are getting lost into new playlists on the radio, kiddos are lining up at bus stops to go back to school, and everyone is throwing away....stuff. Yes, people are throwing away tons and tons of stuff!

Yesterday I went on a walk/run with my mom's and my dog. We took a slightly different-then-usual route, cutting through the neighborhood rather than all the way around, this way we could hit the big hill. Anytime I ran I was practically dragging both of my furry friends since they're much more out of shape than I, making me feel better about myself in a pathetic way.

We started down a street I always forget the name of and saw that every single house had sitting on the curb at least one overflowing trash can with a pile of things that didn't fit neatly (for the most part) stacked beside it. Not only was it garbage day, but also recycling day, meaning that each house also had beside the garbage can, a recycling can, also filled to the brim. Normally I wouldn't care except that instead of running on the sidewalk, I'd have to run in the street, but this time, I couldn't help but take notice, both dogs as well, that rather than mounds of filth, as would be the norm, these were mountains of buried treasure.

I've never before truly rummaged through people's home trash- only at CBC and MSU at the end of the semesters- but this time looked promising just from a glance. First, a small (about 4 foot) Christmas tree caught my attention. It was a fake, but it had those little fiberoptic thingies on the branches that change color when turned on, so I investigated. When I looked more closely, I saw that it also had a strand of white lights wrapped around it, indicating that the fiberoptics probably didn't work. Other than that it looked perfect. I noted it in my brain and carried on. A few houses down I spotted a huge box of books all to be carelessly thrown away. I began to rummage through and found that most of them were in nearly-new condition. Others had obviously been read more than once, but were still in good condition, I began setting apart which ones looked interesting and others that didn't, but then I heard a loud rumble rumble screeeeeeech!!! I looked up- so did the dogs- and saw the garbage truck resting in front of a house with a garbage can lifting into the air above it and roughly shaking loose its contents. I jumped up from a squatting position, noticed that the truck was a couple blocks down yet and on the opposite side of the street. Yes, I have time.

The dogs and I took off at a quick run up the slight incline and towards Mom's house, both the tubby pups blissfully ignorant to the reason behind the scurry, both too concentrated on not collapsing from too sudden of a fat run.

We reached the house and my plan was to let them inside, hop in my car, and hury back to my unclaimed treasures. To my dismay; however, I realized that I'd lost the garage door opener somewhere along the walk! This was my only key to getting inside. My solution: put the dogs in the back yard and hope they don't jump the fence. I sprinted back to the garbage pile just as the truck was rounding the corner after the treasure house. The pile was still there. The garbage man was likely coming back to that side of the road after his perimeter sweep. I grabbed the entire box of books, scooped up the Christmas tree, and started back to Mom's. At first, my confidence had me powerwalking with a slight bounce- as much a bounce as pounds of books and Christmas foliage would allow, but as I cleared the block, I suddenly because sore as invisible needles shot into my biceps all at once, revealing the true strength, or lack thereof of my upper body. I paused and shifted weight, then continued on. Determined to make it back with enough time to get changed for work which was in 45 minutes, I paused only briefly each time I felt I would drop something. This was too good a find to pass up. Fortunately I found the garage door opener on the way back.

When I reached the house, the dogs were eager to see what I brought back. They sniffed everything so that I'm sure there's still a layer of snot on every book. I tested the Christmas tree: the fibers were out but the light strand was perfect. All in all, my plunder consisted of one 4' Christmas tree, 20 devotional/Bible study books, two still-wrapped-yet-recycled newspapers, a journal of Bible notes, 22 novels, and a receipt for an AGCU bank deposit. Now that's a find! We plan to keep all the devotional and study books, but the novels (all war histories) we plan to sell. Perhaps it'll make a dent in my textbook costs for school.

Need another bookshelf.

Fantastical New Years Resolutions

Every year it seems I hear people talk about how they are going to make more of this year than last year. They're going to make resolutions to better themselves in ways they hadn't before, or perhaps try new things they'd always wanted to in the past, but for some reason, they're going to actually do it this time round. I think the most popular resolution is to lose weight. Many people resolve to watch less TV, raise their grades, eat less junk, of be a better person in general (whatever that means.)

Happy fantastical new year from the Kiefer's

I've never made a New Years resolution before. I've never thought of it as a thing I could actually stick to, let along make, and so I've just never tried. I've briefly considered an attempt at making a resolution, but what would I resolve to do?....that's where I'd always stop.

BUT!

This year IS different. The past seven months has been nothing but "resolutions" of sorts, being newly married and all. I figure why stop at making changes now, since the first year is nothing but. So, this 2015 year, I not only decided upon one resolution, but a bit of a list that I give permission to everyone to in order that I may remain accountable. (They are ranked in order of attainability)

1. Get fit: Sure, it may sound a little vague, but to get moving in general is a noble start.
2. Raise my GPA: This is in fact a challenge since not only have I never been particularly keen on the standardized teaching styles used in schools, but hate school in general.
3. Blog weekly: For the past year and a half, going on two, I've really slacked off. While, yes, blogging can be quite a chore to keep up with, I absolutely love doing it and once I execute the publication of a new post, I always feel such relief and accomplishment.
4. De-stress: This would seriously make my day and everyday thereafter.
5. Write a book: I've already begun my second book. Having already written and published one already (which is now available as a second edition), I have personal confirmation that it is indeed possible....and completely fulfilling on multiple levels.
6. Make a new friend: This has never been an area of expertise of mine. Perhaps I'm too judgmental or maybe a bit antisocial in general, but I truly wish to make a friend I know will be there regardless of how human I am (which is 100%). While this point may offend some people, maybe it'll challenge others to reaffirm our friendship.
7. GRADATE: This would make me cry such tears of joy that my skin would likely and in a very gruesome way melt the skin off my face, a scar I'd find worth carrying for the rest of my life. This would be my AA degree and while I know some have been adamant in their urging me to pursue a BA, MA, and blah blah blah A, I want to only focus on my AA of four years right now. I'll save the other degrees for later....365 days from now... or later.

What are YOUR resolutions. What are your plans for fulfilling those resolutions? Can we do them together? Wanna be accountability partners? I'm genuinely interested in your ideas.

Showers

Growing up I've always had incredibly controversial feelings in regards to bathing/showering. When I was a child I remember it being nearly impossible to get me into the tub, but once I was in, nearly impossible to get me out.

I wasn't particularly fond of being wet (nor am I today.) I've always had sensitive skin, likely to my detriment. Something about water water trickling down my epidermis always seemed to bother me in some colossal way. I didn't mind being wrapped in a towel, but if I actually had to wipe water away rather than receive permission to lounge in my towel awhile to air-dry, a tantrum usually followed suit.

Into my preteen and early teen years my tantrums evolved into more of pouty silent treatments which would in themselves result in refusal to shower altogether. All in all, I admit my hygiene habits were less than stellar during my middle school/junior high days.It wasn't until late high school that I finally figure it out: The quicker the shower, the sooner it ended! Not only that, but if I showered first or after everyone else had gone to bed, I could air-dry regardless of permission. It was for this reason that I to this day despise morning showers. (I'm sure my mother is laughing at the recollected horror.)

This evening; however, I experience a very rare thing: a near-perfect shower. The water was warmer than usual. I showered quickly using a lovely peppermint scrub I received for Christmas on a soft washcloth. The heat kicked in just as I finished. I cracked the door just slightly to retain the steamy heat in the bathroom, but just wide enough to accelerate air-drying. I blow-dried my hair to the perfect wet:dry ratio, the sort necessary for my fine, long hair to resist complete soakage, yet remain perfectly French-braided overnight. (I look forward to the luscious waves that will squiggle down my head and over my shoulders when I remove the braid in the morning.) I clothed myself in over-sized fleece Long Johns and a frumpy long-sleeved shirt and succeeded in maintaining every ounce of warmth felt in the shower as I dashed into the bedroom and leaped into freshly changed linens. The only thing that couldn't possibly made my experience truly perfect is if I had used my fluffy, blue towel in place of the border-line rag, and if my husband, rather than being at work, was here to snuggle me to sleep.